Anuta is not Christmas Island
by lilyme
Summary: See what happens when an alleged Grinch and a Christmas fanatic are snowed in together
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Anuta is not Christmas Island...  
**Author: **lilyme  
**Summary:** See what happens when an alleged Grinch and a Christmas fanatic are snowed in together  
**Pairing: **A slayer and a Witch - yet again;)  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". They were created by Joss Whedon and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Network. No copyright infringement intended!  
**Dedication:** To the Buffyverse-characters and the people behind them (actors and writers)

**Author's notes: **Wrote this story in 2007 for a German Christmas challenge and finally decided to translate it :P Several elements had to be included in this fic – namely:

_+ baking cookies_

_+ being snowbound_

_+ someone melancholic_

_+ two very unlike characters_

_+ a very high proof beverage_

_+ ruined Christmas roast_

_+ a sexy Santa outfit_

_+ not so sexy underwear_

_+ gift exchange_

wanna find out how I worked those in, then read and hopefully enjoy ;) **Merry Christmas!**

* * *

**Anuta is not Christmas Island**

_Part One of Three_

"Dammit, Red...if I didn't know any better, I'd say you knew, we'd be stuck up here," a certain brunette bitched and at the same time dodged a baking sheet that 'Red', her hands poorly covered with kitchen towels, her lips forming a silent 'o-ho-ho-hoooot', now deposited on the kitchen table her disgruntled companion had been leaning against just moments before.

Actually Willow had asked the brunette slayer... who certainly wasn't her girlfriend, but Faith... to search the cupboards for a clean bowl, since she was right in the middle of baking cookies. Tons of cookies, it seemed to Faith.

But the brunette had no intentions doing such thing, instead looked for the next facility to lean her behind against, found one in form of a doorpost and regarded the little wicca with the same annoyed and dour look that had been gracing her features for hours.

Her arms were still crossed – if Willow wanted another damn bowl, she could search for one herself. Or go wash up that other one, Faith didn't care either way.

Willow did the latter with a resigning sigh, since she hadn't found a new bowl. It was possible that there was just this one. She wondered how Faith would have reacted, if she had found out about that upon her own inspection? The slayer could hardly become any grumpier, really...

This whole situation wasn't Willow fault. Nature had its own rules. Especially in winter. Especially in the northeastern part of the States.

Winter up here pretty much meant snow, icy cold, snow and... well, snow!

Trillions of gigatons of it...or something like that...

Sure, she as well could imagine better things than being snowbound in a cabin somewhere in the woods near Syracuse with a peevish slayer, but what could she do about it? Magic the snow away?

If only it was that simple...

"Or... wait... was that you? The snow, I mean". Faith seemed to pursue a similar train of thought, only her train was headed into the opposite direction. And she was serious – Willow seemed much too prepared for this situation. Faith didn't get how one person could just have all these recipes ready for use in the back of their mind – Willow must have sensed something.

The redhead took the Faith's comment as an accusation, and it probably was meant to be one. Although it didn't refer to the being stuck itself, but the being stuck in Christmas hell. This is how this place felt to Faith. Even though with the baking of cookies thing only a small part of the usual Christmas traditions was present so far.

And apparently one kind of cookies wasn't enough. Noooo... Red was so cookie-hyper right now that Faith feared she would clean out that stupid bowl a hundred more times in order to put all the ideas that seemed to jump around in her head momentarily into cookie action.

They should have just gone on driving last night. It would have only taken them about five hours more and they would have been home again...

But whose fault was it that they had spent the night here? That's right. Her own fault. She was Faith Lehane, a slayer in her late twenties; a woman, who had mastered pretty much every fighting technique and weapon...

Only she hadn't mastered every vehicle category.

Well, okay, 'mastered'... She knew how to operate most of them, but she only had a license for motorcycles.

That was the problem. She wouldn't have minded taking over the wheel; only her redheaded companion hadn't been too thrilled by that suggestion.

So, when you think about it, it was actually Willow's fault. _She_ hadn't let her drive. Stupid principles.

Or even better – it was G-Man's fault. He could have sent Red and some other slayer on this... terribly exciting mission in Canada's wintery wilderness. One who owned a license for these four-wheeled vehicles commonly known as 'cars'. Maybe not, B, because the girl was infamous for her 'driving skills' and everyone in and around Cleveland – the location of the new slayer headquarter – feared for the safety of their own cars whenever the little blonde got behind the wheel. But Ken. She could also have helped Will defeat this demon that had been the reason for this mission, which – according to Faith – the wrong brunette had been sent on only days before Christmas.

And Willow probably would have liked that better as well. To be stuck somewhere with someone you love and who liked Christmas to some extent was certainly much more enjoyable. But now she had to kill her time with this... this... Grinch...

"Believe me, I would get rid of the snow, if I could," Willow finally replied. "We just have to make the best of this situation".

"You don't seem to have a problem with that," Faith remarked and watched Willow mixing together the next cookie dough.

It was a mystery to Faith how this secluded cabin could hold all these useful ingredients for the baking of Christmas cookies anyway. Hardly anyone strayed up here. Giles had acquired the cabin about two years ago as accommodation for transits such as this one. Only those transits didn't happen as often, since usually planes were taken on longer trips – at least when it came to the missions of slayers and/or witches. Faith knew that Giles liked to take the car on longer missions. Thoughts about the things the boss of watchers did when on one of his "missions" lifted Faith's mood somewhat.

But of course she knew how Willow must feel right now. She was melancholic, would rather be at Slayer Central, their home. With her friends – the people who shared her holiday spirit – and her self-imposed pre-Christmassy tasks. Because in the beginning of their trip Willow had already informed her about all the things she still needed to prepare for Christmas, which back then had been five and today was only one day away. Decorate the central's recreation room, decorate the Christmas tree with Dawnie, who was home from college for the holiday break, and baking tons of cookies, of course. And lastly wrap presents.

Viewed in this light, even now Willow did everything possible to stick to her holiday plan... even if 'sticking to' in their current situation meant redistributing the tasks. The only thing she could take care of up here were the cookies, which, however, today had to live without sugary and colorful garnishment and were cut into the shapes of stars, Christmas trees and hearts with the help of a knife. Because cookie cutters and glaze ingredients, and especially food coloring, were really too much to ask for in this kitchen that was mostly equipped with canned food and other much more useful things.

Redistributed she had the tasks with two calls, since luckily the phone lines hadn't yet collapsed under the heaps of snow. The first one had been to Kennedy who had been instructed to take care of the decorations and the punch and to wrap the presents as presentable as possible. Giles and Andrew – who got along surprisingly well within the kitchen area - were in charge of Christmas Eve dinner tonight anyway, so Willow had at least one thing less to worry about. The second call had been to Xander, since Kennedy couldn't possibly wrap the presents meant for herself – presents Willow had with great foresight stored separately from the ones for her friends – by, well, herself.

Why Xander of all people? The handicapped handyman when it came to wrapping gifts and tying pretty bows?

The decision hadn't been easy for Willow; she had almost set Buffy up on on the... pretty delicate lingerie she had acquired for her girlfriend. Only she knew that Buffy would probably want to talk to her about them, to ask where she had gotten them. And even though Buffy was her bestest of friends, talks like this embarrassed Willow to no end. Xander on the other hand would simply put a content hand on her shoulder, grin happily, but would – and that was the important thing – not comment on it.

"But seriously, Red," the slayer's voice brought her back from the land of thoughts, "why are you making all this fuss about Christmas? Shouldn't y_ou _of all people not actually be celebrating this other thing... this 'Anuta...?"

One could certainly read the last word in Faith's statement as question within a question; it was obvious that the brunette wasn't all sure how the Jewish holiday really was called. Well, probably not like a island in the Pacific ocean.

Faith herself didn't like it very much. Christmas, not the island... she didn't have any problems with that one. But Christmas always gave her bad feelings.

In her childhood, the days of Christmas had just been as ordinary as other days. Without presents, without tree, without Christmas dinner. Only Christmas movies on the old black and white TV and the brightly decorated streets of Boston suggested that this time of year was special.

She only remembered two Chrismases on which she had felt this specialness as well. Her first two Christmases as slayer. Of course her calling hadn't been the reason for this – rather the people whom she had spend these holidays with.

The first year it had been her watcher. As strict as she had been during their training sessions and as defiant Faith's behavior had been sometimes... on Christmas all this had been forgotten and her watcher had finally shown her true face. The face of a loving and warm-hearted women, anxious to do something nice for Faith on this special day. She had given her a beautifully carved stake and a diary, in which she could entrust all the thoughts and worries she didn't want to share with anyone.

Later she had lost her stake in the fight against Kakistos, but it had done a good job – the vampire's face had been proof for this. The diary had accompanied her much longer. For years. She had nearly filled it with writing. But when she had fled from prison she had left it behind. Had the guards had read it after her escape? If so, they either thought she was a complete looney or they finally had a plausible explanation for her seemingly supernatural powers, which other inmates had felt the effects of occasionally – and most of the times it had been their own fault.

The second year it had been the Summers women. Okay... at some point Buffy had taken off to stop Angel from killing himself and Dawnie hadn't been a woman yet. But that didn't change the fact that this Christmas … back then in this small Californian town... had meant a lot to her. It had been her first Christmas within the family circle, albeit not her own. She fondly remembered the Parcheesi games with Joyce and Dawn. Of course they had let little Dawn win to preserve the Christmas peace in the Summers house.

Two wonderful Christmases in her life... whose shine had in retrospect been robbed by similar circumstances and had left her with two sore spots in her heart. The similar circumstances could be labeled with one word: death.

As pleasant as the memories were, as painful were the thoughts about her watcher and about Joyce, two of the people she associated with the good sides of Christmas.

And this was the reason she nowadays avoided anything that had to do with this specific holiday. And she would have done this in Slayer Central; there she could have escaped this Christmas hubbub.

The person that apparently _liked_ having this chaos around her faced her with a partly amused, partly sorrowful smile. "You mean 'Chanukkah', and this year we celebrated it early December already," Willow explained to Faith, who had left her spot on the doorpost and didn't seem as annoyed now. "And Christmas...," she paused briefly, contemplating if she should let Faith in on this secret. Maybe Faith would find her reasoning moronic. She regarded the questioning face. But maybe not. "You know," she lowered the spoon she had just used to mix the ingredients in the bowl together and turned fully towards Faith. "At this time of year, I like to remember special moments. Good old times, even if that sounds corny. Back then there was Buffy, Xand, me, Dawnie, Giles... Anya... Joyce...". Willow sighed, inaudibly for a normal human, but loud enough for a slayer to hear. "Tara".

Willow didn't have to say more to make her Christmania understandable to Faith. As soon as the name 'Anya' had left the redhead's lips, Faith had been able to follow her line of thoughts.

And she understood. Their respective arrangements for Christmas, as different as they were, they undertook for similar reasons. But whereas Faith tried to block out all her memories related to this festivity, Willow revived them every year.

One more circumstance distinguishing these two very unlike characters.

Her eyes met the redhead's and she nodded, showing sympathy. The way things were looking now, she couldn't deny Willow her need for a Christmas vibe in this lonely cabin. And she wouldn't.

"So... if you want... I'll help you with this Christmas thing, okay?" she asked encouragingly, because Willow's face slowly started to show a musing look. A look all too familiar to her; her own face having worn it many times. A look she didn't like to see.

Her suggestion seemed to have the desired effect, however, since a few seconds later Willow's face broke in a hesitant, yet hopeful smile.

* * *

Of course the decorative means in the cabin were limited and hardly suited any Christmas intentions. But they managed.

After Faith had fought her way through the heaps of snow piling up outside to snap some small branches from the trees, they had built a makeshift Christmas tree. They decorated the little twigs with some of Willow's freshly baked and – even Faith had to admit this – pretty yummy cookies. A fire was lit in the fireplace and thus created a fairly cozy ambiance.

Snuggled into separate blankets, they got comfortable on the couch of the main room and and watched TV – luckily the antenna was equally undamaged as the phone line. And thus they could rejoice in the usual suspects: _A Christmas Carol_, _The Little Match Girl_ and of course _The Grinch_, who now held the reputation of a Christmas grouch alone.

When it got dark, the mood got lighter. There was laughter and anecdotes – of the non-Christmassy variety.

But then one of the two women had an idea... An idea that would give this night an unexpected turn.

_to be continued - tomorrow!_

_

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_**A/N: Reviews are always welcome ;)**_  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Anuta is not Christmas Island...  
**Author: **lilyme  
**Summary:** See what happens when an alleged Grinch and a Christmas fanatic are snowed in together  
**Pairing: **A slayer and a Witch - yet again;)  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". They were created by Joss Whedon and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Network. No copyright infringement intended!  
**Dedication:** To the Buffyverse-characters and the people behind them (actors and writers)

* * *

**Anuta is not Christmas Island**

_Part Two of Three_

Punch.

Christmas punch.

Willow wondered how they could have forgotten about that in the first place, as Faith headed off to scout for some usable alcohol. Okay, she knew that she had forgotten on purpose, since alcohol and her body rarely got along. But Faith seemed suddenly obsessed by this thought and didn't let Willow knock her off her course. So the redhead had agreed to the alcoholic beverage, for mood's sake. After all she didn't need to drink all too much of the concoction Faith was preparing in the kitchen area.

At least that's what she thought...

Three hours and about fifteen small glasses of punch later, thinking clearly was slowly becoming an issue. No, it had become an issue already – that punch was _something_ – but from time to time she was still able to form a proper thought. Faith - already a little wobbly on her legs – had gotten up to maltreat a knob on the old but trusty little TV to find a new exciting channel to watch, when Willow's voice interrupted her.

"Y-You know... meee and Xander always watch... Tscharlie Brown's Chrissstmas," came the shickered statement, "with Tscharlie Brown. A-And Snooopy... and Chrissss...mas," she smiled contently. "Every year".

Faith had too much trouble concentrating on the little knob to throw Willow a raised-eyebrow-look. "Aren't you a little old for that?" It was hard to say why her _voice_ wasn't as affected by the alcohol. Maybe her body was just a little more used to it.

Willow didn't say anything to that, only pouted a little.

"Oh... idea...," Faith suddenly squealed excitedly. She looked at the wall clock; a little after nine pm. Quickly she clicked her way through the channels until she reached the areas where she suspected some very special programs to be located. And she wasn't disappointed. A few twists and turns of the knob later she found what she was looking for. How would Willow feel about … age-appropriate TV? "Oh, look... another Christmas movie," she simply said and came stumbling back towards the sofa.

Willow's first impulse was to ask the brunette how she knew that this was a Christmas movie. Since all she could see was... a butt... in close-up. A female, very scantily clad butt at that. And then the camera zoomed out on the entire body... which in all its glory was covered by nothing more than a skimpy, dark brown slip and a pair of antlers.

Faith couldn't possibly be serious. Given normal circumstances, she wouldn't show her a movie like that... But Faith hadn't actually had that much punch, so who knows. To say Willow was confused, would be an understatement. The movie clearly belonged into that category that started with 'p' and ended on 'orn'. Where else would someone get the idea to present their behind to the camera quite so insistently...?

"Saw that one a few years ago, when I wanted to watch one without Christmas in it," Faith explained, clumsily fighting her way back under the blanket. Her articulation was still working fine, only her motor functions had already suffered a little. "Then I read last week that it's on today. Great movie".

"F-Faith... I don't know... if that's...," Willow wanted to protest, her voice a little more sober now from shock.

"Just watch it, okay," Faith interrupted and with this the discussion seemed over for her. Willow sighed and stopped arguing. She figured that – if she still had enough control of her body – she could simply squint her eyes shut, if things on screen got all too... extreme.

* * *

It got extreme... but not as quickly as expected. The reindeer – or whatever the girl in the skimpy 'outfit' was supposed to be – was inspecting a Christmas roast in the oven, which upon closer inspection turned out to be completely ruined.

Remaining in her stooped position, the reindeer-lady at first didn't notice another person sneaking up on her. Only when the hands of said person – _suuuurely _by accident – grazed her butt, she turned to face a blonde in a sexy Santa outfit.

"A lesbo po...," Willow spurted out, swallowing the last part of that word for unknown reasons. Maybe it was because of the word itself, maybe it had to do with the fact that they were watching one _those _movies.

"A lesbo po...," Faith repeated, slightly cocking head. "Well, two actually. Look," her finger pointed vaguely at the lower left corner of the screen.

One could certainly interpret the incomplete word that way. Because Faith pointed her finger at another scantily clad human _posterior_.

"Uh-hm," Willow just nodded. Had she been able to think more clearly, she probably would have wondered about Faith picking a 'po...' with two girls. Because the girls on screen would certainly soon lose the remaining bits of their 'clothes' and... they hardly could keep their hands off each other.

But since her brain was in a pretty little daze, she simply sat and watched, as Faith had commanded.

* * *

And the excitement was growing. After Santa had done her best to comfort the little reindeer – an undertaking that had taken place surprisingly G-rated - the next... act... of the movie followed. What would Christmas be without the exchange of gift?

Accompanied by a kinky and kitschy dialogue, some interesting items were conjured up from various brightly wrapped boxes. Handcuffs... other things that are better left unspecified... and a, um... picture book with stimula...uh, suggestions in case boredom in the bedroom set in. Apparently Santa and the reindeer sometimes had some issues in that field.

"... There's even a plot...," Willow stated surprised.

"Hey, those movies all have a … a plot," Faith retorted, the alcohol finally getting to her somewhat. "The plumber with his pipe and stuff...," she opined and bent forward to take another sip of her delicious punch, which consisted almost entirely of Giles' Scottish Whiskey. She offered another glass to Willow, and this one accepted after thinking briefly.

* * *

Willow straightened herself up, sat up properly, since apparently she had an important announcement to make. "Well... maybe I'm toooooo drrrunk already, but... I like it," she grinned and fell back onto the cushy cushions. She had made her point; now she didn't have to make an effort anymore remaining her composure.

By now the girls on screen were even less dressed than at the beginning of the movie. And the actions had become more X-Rated.

"Told ya," Faith noted. Her head remained in its crooked position; it had simply gotten too heavy by now.

Willow's head, until now being held pretty much upright, now followed Faith's … which, however, was probably due to a very interesting scene they were watching right now. "Never ttthhhought you could use a fir branch for...well..."

"Ever thought they made those out of rubber?" Faith ask a not unwarranted question and they both broke out in ringing laughter.

When they had calmed down again, something suddenly came to Willow's mind. "You know, this one time at band camp..." That's where her sentence ended. Faith looked at her as interested as it was possible for her in her inebriated state, but the redhead simply didn't go on. Maybe she had forgotten what she had wanted to say. Or maybe she didn't want to let Faith in on the thought bumping around in her head.

The shrug of Faith's shoulders was barely noticeable as she cocked her her head again. It just was more comfy that way.

* * *

"Red... can you take my head off your shoulder...?" Faith asked about twenty minutes later, more than sleepy. It wasn't her fault that this stupid thing atop her neck now showed even more imbalance than intended. And she didn't seem to have enough strength to pull it up again.

Red, equally as tired, didn't fully understand Faith's question at first. Though that the tipsy brunette had confused the personal pronouns. Quickly she checked the position of her own head. Hm... not remotely resting on anything. Weird...

But then she noticed that there really was something there. There... on her own shoulder. It wasn't her own head, that much was certain. Because that would mean her head had been severed from her body somehow and had been reattached somewhere next to her neck.

Okay, so that had to mean Faith's head was on her shoulder. She didn't have any problem with that – as far as she was concerned, Faith could put her head wherever she wanted. But apparently Faith _didn't_ want that. So...

Willow scooted a bit to the right, expecting Faith to reflexively remove her head now that there wasn't anything there to rest it on. But the alcohol finally had overruled the reflexes of the brunette slayer...

Similar things could be said about her own sense of balance, as Willow had to admit, when the 'scooting-over-a-little' became a 'suddenly-finding-herself-flat-on-her-back'.

Faith's affected reflexes now resulted in her body following the redhead's unasked. Of course Faith didn't land on her back or her side... no – where would be the fun in that? Instead Faith landed – face first – on Willow's chest.

By now the slayer certainly would have to sit up with a start, since she didn't seem to want any body contact, Willow thought considering their current... position... pretty startled herself.

But Faith did nothing of the sort. Instead she cuddled up to Willow and everything located on that very specific region of the redhead's body, making herself comfortable. "That's better," she murmured, when she finally found the coziest spot for her head.

And really – it was better. Way better than this stupid shoulder. So much softer and comfier. So very perfect for...

She didn't finish that thought. Well... her _head_ didn't. Her body, however, instinctively knew, which command the control center up there had wanted to send and reacted on its own.

Willow could only slowly shake off the shock. Why did Faith have to put her head _there_ of all places? And her hands were a little too clingy as well. Okay, they were grasping some less dangerous places of her body, but still...

"Faith...," she tried, but knew that the slayer didn't hear her anymore.

Because...

Faith was already snoozing peacefully. Even though snoozing _peace_fully wasn't really the right expression for what the slayer was doing.

Faith was snoring. Massively. She was louder than Xander and – may God rest her soul – Anya combined.

Willow only hoped that Faith's vociferous, cacophonous, slightly wheezing snore was due the excessive punch consumption. Because if not...she felt sorry for each and every single person, who was exposed to this noise on a regular basis.

Meaning slayers who had the 'pleasure' of residing in rooms in direct vicinity to Faith's. There wasn't anyone else – Faith was still the prototypical single with the occasional one-night-stands.

Maybe because of that her current sleeping position wouldn't even bother her any further – there wasn't anyone in her life, who would be upset about that. Willow on the other hand... couldn't help thinking about Kennedy, her girlfriend, whom she now has been with for longer than anyone had ever expected. For almost seven years. She didn't even want to know how the girl would feel about this. She only hoped her own dark slayer would never hear about it.

But if... she would put the blame on Faith. It obviously was the truth. _She_ had fabricated this... punch.

The shock that had temporarily cleared the drunken stupor in her own mind slowly ebbed away. How else could it be explained that she suddenly found Faith calming in a way?

Faith... Her face towards the TV, as though she wanted to know so badly how the movie would end. Her nose redder than Rudolph's. Her hands clinging to Willow. And her snore... that in its enormous volume and cacophony was still strangely narcotic.

Willow couldn't escape this effect any longer. As much as she wanted to.

Finally her eyes decided that they had seen enough. With one last glance at the still very very busy girls and with _both_ ears listening to Faith's snoring, she finally closed her eyes.

* * *

When she awoke again, a strange feeling overcame her. As though her brain was wrapped in cotton wool. There was not a trace of headaches... Shouldn't she have those? Okay, it seemed it was the middle of the night, so maybe the hangover was still coming.

It was a few seconds later that she noticed what had awoken her. There was another feeling. An even stranger one. Someone was _feeling_ her _up_. _Groping _her!

Faith!

Faith, who apparently wasn't yet as sober as she was. The slayer was sitting atop her and was impatiently tugging at her clothes. "There yewwa..." Through the thick material of her woolen sweater, she sensed the brunette's warm hands on her tummy. Faith herself was dressed as if it was midsummer outside. She was wearing one of her wife beaters and short biker pants. Basically her underwear. For a second Willow wondered where she had left the rest of her clothes, since she didn't see them anywhere.

"What are you doing?" Willow asked blankly, when the hands suddenly slid under her sweater.

"That movie... I wanna," came a curt reply, Faith being much too busy following through with her plan.

Willow didn't understand Faith's comment. Faith wanted to be part of such a movie? No... those hands... uh-oh... Faith wanted... _this!_ The hands were already dangerously close to the area the brunette's head had rested on in her sleep. No... this wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

"Faith, n-no... y-you're drunk," Willow stammered, taken aback. This couldn't be true...

"Mmmm...punch..." Temporarily distracted by Willow's words, Faith reached for a glass that still held a last bit of the yummy beverage. Panicking, Willow didn't see any any other way than to think of a short incantation. It was intended to clear Faith's head, to make the slayer leave her alone.

What it really did...

Faith regarded the glass containing her precious punch in astonishment. The formerly amber liquid was now crystal clear.

Willow frowned. Water? Had she really just turned the punch into water...?

Faith seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Heh... Anti...Jesus... Antichrist!" she laughed and knocked back the supposed water. Only to notice, "Hm. Still punch... too bad," she grinned mischievously, putting down the glass and focusing on her actual task.

First... getting Willow out of her clothes. Because the girl had on way too much for her liking.

Willow didn't quite comprehend the actions of her own body. Or rather the _non_-actions. Shouldn't it put up resistance of some kind? It had done this moments ago!

But Faith... was overwhelming – in more than one way-, and Willow resigned to her fate, not entirely unwilling.

Within seconds the nimble slayer hands freed her of her pants and revealed white Bridget-Jones-y panties and thick, gray woolen socks. Willow couldn't remember owning clothes like these. The socks – okay, somewhere in her closet there was probably a pair like this hidden; after all she had cold feet frequently. But that underwear...

"Hm... sexy...," Faith smirked. If she was being serious, Willow couldn't say. But she didn't feel comfortable. Faith shouldn't see her like this. And more importantly shouldn't do the things with her she was obviously planning on doing.

Faith was drunk; she couldn't know what was happening here. Willow had to make sure that things didn't go any further. But her body stayed in its anxiously relaxed rigor, simply let Faith do.

And thus she didn't stop the lips that were moving towards hers. But her mind was still able to give her eyes the order to close. Maybe she could block out the slayer's actions that way.

Simply pretend it wasn't happening.

_to be continued tomorrow ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Anuta is not Christmas Island...  
**Author: **lilyme  
**Summary:** See what happens when an alleged Grinch and a Christmas fanatic are snowed in together  
**Pairing: **A slayer and a Witch - yet again;)  
**Rating:** R  
**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". They were created by Joss Whedon and belong to him, Mutant Enemy, Sandollar Television, Kuzui Enterprises, 20th Century Fox Television and the WB Network. No copyright infringement intended!  
**Dedication:** To the Buffyverse-characters and the people behind them (actors and writers)

* * *

**Anuta is not Christmas Island**

_Part Three of Three_

Willow awoke. Again.

This awaking was different than the one a few minutes ago. It was light out. The dark slayer was neither lying snoring nor sitting lewdly on top of her. Instead there was the blanket, in which she had wrapped herself yesterday.

And there was something else – she had a terrible headache.

Okay, definitely a sign that this was real.

But... were the happenings from just moments before also real? Or had it all been just a dream – as Willow hoped? But if so – what did that dream mean?

Before she worried about that, she had to make sure first. Slight panic overcame her, as she thought about what she might find underneath the blanket. Or what she might _not _find. Carefully she lifted it up... and noticed that her clothes were still on, complete and - most importantly - seemed untouched.

Okay... good... now she was ninety per cent sure that it all had just been a dream. The missing ten per cent certainty would have to be provided by a brunette – who hopefully had not been involved in any 'actions' with her.

As on cue, this one came floating into the room. "Well, good morning, sleepyhead," Faith grinned and put a drink on the table that at the moment was of little interest for Willow. The redhead sat up and was promptly reminded by her head that all too fast movements were a really, really bad idea right now. The strained sound of her vocal chords made that clear to her surroundings.

She looked at Faith. How was it possible that the slayer wasn't hungover? After all she had consumed much, much more punch. In her – as she hoped - dream she had still been drunk, whereas Willow had been more or less sober again. Oh, God, that dream. She had to pull herself together and try to not imagine Faith naked. Luckily she had had her mental blackout before they had reached that critical point, and she was grateful for it.

Faith watched on worriedly as Willow rubbed her eyes and other parts of her face with a desperate-sleepy-hungover expression. Maybe the punch had been too much for the poor girl. "Hey, Red, everything okay over there?"

"It will be," Willow nodded cautiously, careful not to disturb her head any further, and slowly opened her eyes. After a few moments of silence, in which she fought with herself and the throbbing of her head, she finally asked, "Faith...um, did we... you know... yesterday..."

The brunette frowned. "Did we...what?"

"Well...". Clearing her throat and nervous not-looking-at-Faith. "Things that... might have...been inspired by that... movie," she finally found the words for a hopefully unambiguous description.

Now Faith was befuddled all the more. How in the world did Red come up with _that_? Yeah, okay, the redhead had gotten pretty hot over the years – anyone with fairly good eyesight would agree with her there. But... she and her? "Well... I was pretty drunk... but I'd remember having sex," she smiled hearteningly. Okay, in her past there had been boozy nights out, after which she hadn't known if she had slept with the person next to, atop or underneath her... but Willow didn't need to know that. "And you still got your clothes on, as you might have noticed."

Willow smiled in return – grateful for the negation of her fears. And concerning her fantasies about Faith... she could always blame in on the punch and the fact that Faith had gotten comfortable on her chest.

Faith's thoughts centered on the same thing. Why would Willow dream about_ her_? She had Kenny, after all. Although she had to admit that the little witch had been a comfy, cuddly cushion. Even though the sleeping position she had chosen had confused her at first.

She had been able to get up without disturbing the slumbering redhead. She only vaguely remembered what had happened last night. They had watched TV and had drunk a bit of punch. Or a larger bit of punch. What happened afterwards... the movie... she didn't take responsibility for that – the alcohol had deprived her of her control over her senses. She was sure that Willow wouldn't lose a word about the happenings to anyone. But if, she could live with it.

What she still remembered well was her head first landing on Willow's shoulder and later on her chest. But she didn't care about that, because she knew that she hadn't had any bad intentions. She felt sorry for the fact that Willow's head seemed to have bigger problems with that. On the other hand, it was kinda funny.

Faith picked up the glass she had brought with and handed it to the redhead. The drink turned out to be an Aspirin dissolved in water. Willow noticed this and put on a grateful smile. "Okay, from now on you'll never get punch to drink when I'm around. Slayer's honor," she pledged with raised hand and a resolute, yet amused expression.

"As long as it's not almost entirely made of alcohol, you could let me have a tiny sip," Willow replied and gulped down the liquid, which tasted much yuckier than the Christmas beverage.

"Deal". Faith took the glass from Willow's hand and went into the kitchen. "If you're done then...I have a little surprise for you."

* * *

The surprise was that the temperatures had risen over night and that the snow's depth had decreased significantly. Willow's hangover flew away within seconds. Because that meant they could get back into the car and – if a little belatedly – enjoy Christmas with their loved ones. Or maybe in Faith's case elude the festivities – the slayer hadn't fully decided yet.

After a quick breakfast and after storing the improvised Christmas tree and the various cookie creations in bags and backpacks, they made their way out.

"Nice snowman," Willow remarked with a smile when her eyes fell on the figure that hadn't been there yet yesterday.

"It's a snowwoman, Red. Look. Recognize her?" Faith replied with a wicked grin.

And really – if it was even possible, the sculpture showed stunning resemblance to one of the lead actresses in last night's movie. The two snowballs on the upper front and two smaller branches forming a deer head were a clear sign.

At least to well-informed minds.

**THE END**

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So... I hope you liked this a little unconventional Christmas story ;)  
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